


because we're all puppets dangling from a single string

by aestivate



Category: Young Justice, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:29:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aestivate/pseuds/aestivate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garfield Logan has lost his mother. A couple of teammates. He might lose M’gann – his only family left – as well. And he’s not sure he can deal with that. Not again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	because we're all puppets dangling from a single string

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: K+  
> Characters: Garfield Logan/Beast Boy  
> Summary: Garfield Logan has lost his mother. A couple of teammates. He might lose M’gann – his only family left – as well. And he’s not sure he can deal with that. Not again.  
> Word Count: 1,318

The Algebra spread on table takes the form of scrap paper, broken pencils, and eraser shavings. Math is his weakest subject, but even then it feels significantly less confusing than the jumbled mess in Gar’s brain. He’s agitatedly tapping a fresh pencil against his homework, and black marks splotch onto the page, effectively covering an entire proof. Scowling, he takes a tiny nub of eraser and rubs it against the math sheet.

 

Crap. He’s accidentally torn a part of the page. He sighs in frustration and throws down his eraser, slumping in his seat. Professor Carr will probably scold him for his sloppiness later. Not that he cares much in particular, _but still._ Math sucks. This sucks. Everything sucks.

 

Other than the fact that Nightwing’s Bludhaven warehome is empty and Gar is alone. Technically, there’s no one to supervise Gar to make sure he gets his homework done properly. Not anymore.

 

Gar rests his head momentarily on the back of his chair and his tail hovers above him, twitching. He sits up a bit straighter when he catches his reflection in the television screen. His fur is matted in some places. But there’s nobody to brush him anymore.

 

 A few days go Mal had taught him how to wire the whole warehome for surround-sound. Plus he’s got the whole place to himself which means he’s in total control of the TV for once. No drunken Celtics games with Mal hogging the whole recreational area to himself. When Nightwing comes to the warehome it’s usually for mission briefings anyway and he uses the holo-com, never the flat-screen.

 

He could... He could...

 

After all, he has the DVD’s Robin burned for him.

 

“I know your copies were destroyed in the explosion, and I was bored one night during patrol so...”Tim’s voice had trailed off then, and he’d smiled sheepishly after presenting Gar with the goods.

 

It’s been a while since Gar has heard his mother’s voice. He definitely could.

 

Especially since there is no Conner or La’gaan taking up the TV either by halfheartedly playing video games or listlessly watching the news for the next depressing cover story.

 

Everything reminds Gar of M’gann.

 

Those video files of _Hello, Megan?_ M’gann’s. She’d had original television files encrypted and saved for years. The news that La’gaan and Conner are so desperately waiting for? Anything that means info on _M’gann_.

 

He could put the videos on. Feel the familiar rushing, suffocating ache for his mother, for Artemis. For his sister, whom he dreads is going the same way. But she can’t be dead, at least not yet, not when she promised she’d always be there for him...

 

So he doesn’t.

 

“No news is good news,” grunted Conner one night, clicking the remote once, blinking the TV closed.

 

“I guess,” responded La’gaan, equally nonchalant.

 

Gar remembers feeling a sudden murderous urge pulsing through his veins. What’s _wrong_ with them? What’s wrong with _everything_ , with _everyone?_

 

He remembers seriously considering transforming into an elephant and then stomping on their freaking heads, right then and there. Sometimes he feels like he’s the only one that cares. The older boys always seem so distracted and preoccupied.

 

Sometimes he really hates them for it.

 

Every single time Nightwing comes to the HQ, Gar always waits for their leader to finally call the mission that means they’ve found M’gann and they can rescue her, bring her home. Gar’s tail and fur always droop when it’s never what he’s hoping for. He doesn’t get it. And that’s _way_ more confusing than Algebra.

 

She’s one of _them_. She’s a _hero_. She’s a _teammate,_ a _lover_ , a _friend_. A _sister._ Why haven’t they gone all in, guns blazing? What are they waiting for? He’s frustrated at the wait, but once Nightwing gives the order he’s all in.

 

Gar just wants to break down every door it takes until he’s reunited with her.

 

Gar’s even practiced shape-shifting into some heavy-hitter animals lately. He’s got a rhino down pat. A Siberian tiger, too, inspired by his last fight with Tigress, whom he fought to a standstill. He has a score to settle with her.

 

There are some horrible moments Gar thinks that she might be dead already and the older members are just trying to keep it a secret from him. Sometimes when he’s feeling particularly angry he just wants to lash out at the seniors of the team for keeping him out of the loop for so long, but then he remembers that they’re all dealing with their own problems and are trying to solve this one just as diligently.

 

Better than anyone, Gar knows what it’s like to mourn:

 

In a relatively short time, he’s lost his mother. _Goodbye, Megan._

 

 _And Tula._ Aquagirl. He knows he’ll never get over the sound of Garth’s and Aqualad’s pleading and weeping, nor does he think the image of her bloated, lifeless body will ever leave his head, permanently seared into his nightmares.

  
 _And Artemis._ His other big sister. This wound feels the freshest and rawest; he was never as close to her as he was with M’gann, but she could kick butt like nobody’s business and still sparkled while doing so. Plus her favorite color was also green, and that made her even more awesome. Gar remembers how all of a sudden life seemed so much dimmer when her light went out.

 

He didn’t really know the others in the grotto. Ted Kord’s death was more of a Justice League thing, and “the other Robin” is rarely, if ever, talked about. One time Gar had asked about him and Nightwing’s and Robin’s faces had gotten so ashen so quickly that he didn’t press the question. They’re gone, anyway.

 

Maybe even M’gann will end up the same way too.

 

Gar knows everyone dies; that in their line of work, it’s the heroes that wind up a little less than mortal. Gar knows he’ll go that way too, someday, though he hopes he’ll leave a legacy behind. But as the days go by, there are less and less people to remember him by. Then he thinks of his mother and how mercilessly Marie’s car had crashed into the waterfall, Tula and how she’d been drowned and poisoned after being lured into enemy waters, and Artemis and how she’d been stabbed ruthlessly in the stomach by a former, traitorous teammate.

 

He thinks of their broken bodies, puppets with snapped strings, and his own body shakes.

 

He thinks of the one he calls his sister and thinks of his own strings that would be cut if his suspicions are correct and she’s actually dead.

 

But she can’t be; she _promised_. He’d _know_. He’s her _blood brother_ and he’ll always protect her just as she’s always protected him. He can’t handle the alternative.

 

_“We’re bonded for life, you know. We’re blood brother and sister, Gar, and it’ll stay that way forever, I promise. And I’m so, so sorry I didn’t make it there in time for Marie and I know I-I’m not like her. She was extraordinary in so many ways. But you’re not alone, you never will be alone. And I know I can’t replace her... but there’s always a home for you at Mount Justice – my home. Our home, I guess; if you want it to be, anyway. Will you... will you come live with me?”_

 

Gar blinks hard and shakes his head rapidly. He stares back down at his homework, which he still hasn’t finished. He hates Algebra, but he hates the tears sliding down his cheeks even more. They fall into his homework, dampening the paper; great, now he has more to explain to Professor Carr later as to why his homework is so messy.

 

 _I’ll come for you soon, where ever you are,_ Gar promises, rubbing his eyes. _Just like you came for me.  
_

_Wait for me._

It won’t be soon after long.

 

 

* * *

 

Fin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
